Closing Time
by chatte blanche
Summary: May I... stay here for the night?" Vignettes from Roy and Riza's POV on this particular question. Read and review ?
1. Riza

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the characters involved in this piece… because if I did, well, their relationship wouldn't be implied. It would be _**canon**_.

**Closing Time  
****(_riza_)**

"May I… stay here for the night?"

She smiles weakly and bites her lip. Her cheeks feel as if they're on fire; she can hear the blood pounding through her ears. She knows that she must look foolish and stupid to him. She's just another plaything, just another notch on his bedpost, just another tale of innocence lost to be prostituted for beers at the local bar.

She tucks back a strand of hair as she waits for his reply. Though she's not a teenager anymore – legally, that is, and that's all that really matters, anyway – she still feels like one. She feels horribly self-conscious, out-of-place. It's not a feeling she likes.

"It's late, and, my tent, it's farther away." She can't help herself, she knows that she's babbling now. She's grasping at straws, looking for anything to fill the awkward silence.

She really does hate how that now, around him, when they're alone, she can't seem to stop talking. She blathers on about her dreams, her hopes, her fears. Lately, it's gotten worse – she's told him about her innermost secrets, including one about her vision of a perfect wedding (thousands of roses, her mother's wedding gown, Prince Charming; she wants it all).

It wasn't like this when they were younger. She used to be able to hold her tongue. She used to be able to handle long stretches of silence between them. And, most importantly – this is what bothers her the most at night, when she lies awake, staring up through the sheer cloth of her tent at the smoke-laced sky – she used to be able to sleep without him lying by her side.

And she feels just a little bit sick for feeling this way. She feels as if she's betrayed someone, something. A standard, an ideal, maybe? Or perhaps the paragon of the perfect, _**independent **_soldier who she thought she could be: a woman without the imprudence of the heart.

She looks at the ground, thoroughly embarrassed; he hasn't said anything, hasn't done anything. He's only just stood there and let the seconds and minutes trickle by slowly, agonizingly.

And why would he say yes to her, anyway?

She isn't beautiful, just pretty; she's seen him with better girls – with girls that he actually calls by their first names. She isn't charming, only courteous. She isn't even pure anymore – granted, he tarnished her, but still. She has nothing to attract him, to lure him in.

And he isn't drunk, like he was two days ago, the last time she stayed overnight in his tent.

She turns to walk away, mortified. Oh, she won't be able to sleep tonight – both because of him and because of herself. _I'm so stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid, just like those girls I've always hated, those girls who giggle and whine over absolutely nothing, pining for men who will never love them back _–

"Wait." His voice comes out, barely audible as she takes a step into the night. "You're right, it is dark. It's too late now, and there isn't much light to guide your way back. Plus, everyone's asleep."

She turns, hardly believing her ears.

"It would be rude of me to turn you away." Now he smiles weakly, steps back, waves at her to come in as he turns around to walk farther into the tent. "Come in… Riza. I've got an extra blanket."

And she follows him, an inaudible whisper escaping her lips, her hands reaching up to unclasp the hairclip nestled in her blond locks.

"… Thank you, Roy."

**END.**

--

**AN**: I absolutely love Semisonic's cover of "Closing Time"! :) So, it's no surprise that I ended up writing this (and the follow-up to this) while listening to the song over and over again. I really love how this particular piece turned out.

I understand that Riza's a very calm, collected woman; however, I've always wondered what she was like with Roy at the beginning of their relationship. My best bet is insecure and awkward, from observations IRL; thus, I hoped to capture that in this piece. I hope I did so.

The second chapter is from Roy's POV. It's definitely darker.

Thank you for reading!

Chatte Blanche


	2. Roy

**Disclaimer: **See the first chapter.

**Closing Time  
(_roy_)**

"May I… stay here for the night?"

The question has caught him off-guard; he blinks once, twice, at the girl standing in front of him, a sheepish smile on her face. He is surprised that she would ask such a question, and to him, of all people. He knows she's not stupid, that she knows what implications lie behind such a simple request – and that he understands what she's asking for as well.

Guilt and self-loathing begin to rise in his throat, choking off any quick response, any quick answer he might have had. He can't bring himself to say yes – that would mean ruining her even further – or no – that would mean losing her, driving her farther away.

_What have I done?_ She's too good for him: too naïve, too pure, too blameless.

She's the kind of girl that a man would marry – not fuck. She's the kind of girl that a man would treasure for the rest of his life. Really, she's the kind of girl that deserves someone better than him: someone who doesn't have a track record of bedding a different woman each day of the week, someone who doesn't drown his sorrows in drink.

She deserves someone who doesn't slaughter innocents – and bring an innocent into war.

"It's late, and, my tent, it's farther away."

He can tell she's embarrassed. Her cheeks are red, like rosy apples.

Her flushed cheeks remind him of a quiet autumn day that he spent with her, when they were both much younger, in an apple orchard. She'd been thrilled when he'd taken several caramel candies and melted them to create a caramel apple, just for her. In fact, that day, she was so excited that she lost her reserved demeanor. He could still remember how her arms had wrapped around his neck, how her lips felt as they brushed his cheek.

_That was the day I fell in love with her_.

She hasn't done anything remotely similar until now.

Another wave of guilt and self-loathing washes over him. He hadn't meant to do anything with her that night, or on any of the other nights. He was drunk, like he was every night following a battle. And she'd been waiting for him at his tent.

He remembers the way she smells – vanilla with a hint of gunpowder. The way she feels – smooth and soft. The way she tastes – like tea with lemon slices. The way she sounds when she calls out his name – his _**first**_ name. He wishes that he could remember more details, like what she looks like when she sleeps, snuggled into his chest –

The sound of rustling clothes jars him from his thoughts. And there she is, her back to him, ready to leave.

A beat of indecisiveness passes.

_No._

Though he has no right to her, he cannot bear to watch her walk away from him.

"Wait." She stops; his heart lurches.

Now it is he who feels embarrassed, the one to stumble over his words. "You're right, it is dark. It's too late now, and there isn't much light to guide your way back. Plus, everyone's asleep."

"It would be rude of me to turn you away." He smiles weakly, hopes that she believes him. "Come in… Riza. I've got an extra blanket."

And he turns, stripping off his gloves, to lead her into his tent, into his bed, and further into his heart.

**END.**

--

**AN**: I must admit, I like Riza's POV better. But this one is still fairly good in my opinion. :) A bit o' lime, but… it's not too bad.

I will have to say that I took some creative liberties in these two pieces. I haven't read the manga for a while (and don't remember much, so don't flame me for this!), but I'm working under the assumption that pre-Ishbal War, Roy and Riza weren't familiar/comfortable enough to be on a first-name basis. The indecision in this piece is because, well, it's the first time that they're calling each other by their first names. Also, since I've never been drunk, I don't know what drunk people remember. I'm guessing their vision isn't too great, so, hence the reason why Roy only remembers smell, taste, touch, and sound – not sight.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thank you!

(Reviews are greatly appreciated, but I'm not going to be like RAWR R&R!)

Chatte Blanche


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